


you're the one (who got me here)

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Challenge Response, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 21:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2244474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to describe how Cook makes him feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're the one (who got me here)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the TOSOD fic challenge on the lj comm cookleta_etc. Song - Parachutes and Airplanes.
> 
> Written in 2010 and posted here for archiving purposes.

It's hard to describe how Cook makes him feel.

Even before they started dating - before David had finally summoned up enough courage to tell Cook he wanted something other than his friendship, something more - Cook had always been able to make him feel... well, different, from everyone else. 

Like... like during Idol, during the whirlwind of auditions and Hollywood week and then the Top 24, when there had been so many other people (people who were older and more experienced and all so talented), Cook had been the one to single him out, to come up to him and introduce himself, to hang around with him on tour and tell him those awful jokes - to be his friend, even though sometimes David had no idea why, not when there were people like Michael and Carly around, and wouldn't Cook rather hang out with them than David, who was too young to go around without a chaperone, who didn't smoke or drink or hang out in bars?

But Cook didn't seem to care, didn't seem to think that any of that mattered. He didn't treat David like he was younger than the others, like he was a kid tagging along with the grown-ups, didn't treat him as anything other than an adult, and that, well - it was nice. 

And then it was over, everything was over, no more impromptu Guitar Hero battles on the bus, no more of Cook dragging him all over every city they stopped in, no more sharing a stage every night. Those first few months, David remembers, had been horrible. They were both so busy, so caught up with press and interviews and their respective albums that it would usually take weeks before they could get in touch with each other (and David hadn't helped, still so nervous about making the first move, thinking he'd just be bothering Cook, that the older man would be too busy to talk to him.)

Figures he should have known, then, what that meant - why his hands would shake if he tried to dial Cook's number when he could call Jason or Brooke or any of the others easily, why he'd drop everything if he heard Cook's ringtone when anything else could wait... Why he hated - absolutely hated - when their schedules were just a day apart, when Cook would arrive somewhere just as David had to leave. Should have been so obvious to him, then, that he'd fallen for Cook, was probably obvious to everyone else.

But he hadn't known yet, not then, hadn't been able to put a name to what it was he felt when he was around Cook, how warm and happy and nervous he'd get, how those first few months without the older man's constant presence had been... not so great, how he'd missed him. He couldn't figure out why he felt so weird, so hot and bothered and squirmy, those nights when they would talk for hours, both of them exhausted but still trying to keep each other awake, Cook's voice all soft and low in his ear.

When he'd finally figured it out, when he finally couldn't take it anymore and called Cook a few months after his eighteenth birthday, told him - told him everything - he hadn't thought anything would come of it. He'd just... he knew Cook didn't feel that way, about him, knew the older man would at least be nice about it, wouldn't think he was weird or disgusting, would probably say he was "Flattered, Arch, really, but..." and that would be the end of it.

But he hadn't, hadn't said anything other than, "Me too. Fuck, David, me too," had shown up the next day on David's doorstep with messy hair and exhausted eyes, mumbling, "Took the red eye. Had to - fuck, Archie - " before he'd moved, fumbling with the doorknob and pressing David inside and kissing him, oh my gosh, and then they'd - well.

It was easy from there - Cook made it easy - to go from what they had to something more. Still the same late night phone calls, the same jokes, the same Cook and David they'd always been - there was just more to them than before, easier to show affection if he wanted to, to kiss Cook, to be close to him in whatever way he wanted (because hey, David had that right now). All of that nervousness, the embarrassment he'd felt before, it was easy to let that go around Cook (well, for the most part).

So when he's working on his second album, when he hums the first tentative notes of Parachutes, he thinks of Cook, of being with Cook, how on edge he feels with one smile, how high off the ground one kiss can take him - thinks of late nights, of being so close, Cook taking him higher and higher until he never wants to come down.

It's the only song he'll let Cook hear, singing bits and pieces to him over the phone on those nights when one of them is gone - hushed and quiet if he's on the bus, louder, freer, if he's home. The nights that they're together, when the lights are out and Dublin's asleep, he breathes the words into Cook's skin, voice thick and raspy, "You're the one that got me here," whisper-hummed against Cook's open, panting mouth.

Some nights, after hours in the studio, when David is too exhausted to do much of anything but stumble upstairs and fall into bed, Cook will be the one to sing it to him, chest curved against David's back and voice soft and deep, "There's something crazy about this day, like I'm walking on a trampoline, I couldn't get much higher" against his ear until David is asleep.

Even after the album drops and Cook hears the rest of the songs, Parachutes and Airplanes is the one he still hums around the house, the one he asks David to sing over the phone when they're apart, the one David puts his all into when he's on stage (because it feels like theirs now, and even if he loves the rest of his album, loves singing every song, it's Parachutes that makes him think of Cook, makes him feel close when they're miles apart).

Like now, standing under hot stage lights, the audience screaming and the band gearing up for his final song, for Parachutes. Grinning so widely it almost hurts, already sent a text to Cook before he'd gone out on stage, This one's for you and I'll be home soon. Wait up for me?

Grabs the mic as the opening chords begin to play, thinks of the one person that's gotten him here, so high he'll never hit the ground, and sings.


End file.
